


I am so much more than royal

by ViolettaValery



Series: Victory's Contagious [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Conquest, Enemies to Lovers, Handprints, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Possessiveness, Rough Sex, Space Royalty, Throne Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-26 02:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20036260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaValery/pseuds/ViolettaValery
Summary: The alien cocks his head, taking in Alex’s drenched figure, the challenge in his stance.“Don’t you bow to your gods?” he asks, his voice carrying miraculously above the roar of the wind and the pounding rain.“You are no god,” Alex tells him.Michael lands on Earth to conquer it and is smitten with Alex. (a.k.a. an indulgent darkfic that is mostly porn)





	I am so much more than royal

**Author's Note:**

> Realistic plot? Technobabble that makes sense? I don't know them. This is mostly just porn with helpings of blatant borrowing from Independence Day, shameless stealing from Stargate, and a generous amount of handwaving to hold it all together. 
> 
> I wrote with no intention of portraying non-con or dubcon, but ymmv. 
> 
> Title from Panic! at the Disco.
> 
> Thank you to knownochill for the support and beta-ing (yes, I'll fight you), my darling lover from afar Jess for the excitement and support, beamirang for the encouragement to write this, and winged-fool for writing amazing Malex darkfics that inspired me to give one a try myself.

The U.S. military is made up of absolute geniuses, which is why, when SETI’s sensors detect an unidentified object hurtling toward Earth, they start shooting immediately. But everything they aim at it, missiles included, bounces off like so many rubber balls.

That’s how an actual honest-to-god extraterrestrial object lands in Bumfuck, Nowhere, United States of America. (Not Roswell, which leaves Alex with a twisted sort of satisfaction). There isn’t so much as a dent in its glowing, purple-pink metal. If it even is metal. 

The military has mobilized a battalion of soldiers in the minutes it takes to land, and they surround it, ready to fire. Alex watches from a hastily-erected command center as the spaceship opens its doors. But instead of soldiers (drones? Clone warriors? All the science fiction he’s ever seen vies for attention in his mind, and he has to force himself to concentrate) pouring out, only one man steps down.

He’s tall and lanky, a mess of curls atop his head and a wicked smile on his lips as he surveys the muddy terrain. His all-black clothes sit tight on his body while a regal cape flows behind him as he descends, like every bad sci-fi movie Alex has ever seen.

He can’t deny it’s effective. Half of every empire is symbolism, after all.

The command comes to fire at will and the soldiers start shooting, but each bullet stops inches from the alien as if hitting a glass wall, dropping harmlessly to the ground.

Above him, thunder growls and the heavens open into a downpour.

Alex blinks. The sky had been clear minutes ago.

Through the pouring rain, he watches as the alien turns his face to the sky, lifting a hand. Like a lightning rod, he seems to summon the lightning to him. But instead of striking him down, it appears to charge him like a battery.

Alex knows there is no magic to it. Those things that seem like magic always have scientific explanations. The alien had doubtless introduced some kind of agent into their atmosphere, a change in pressure and other conditions to affect the local weather patterns.

Still, against the darkened sky, he looks like some pagan god, impervious to the elements that dampen his curls and the wind that ripples through his cloak.

Alex has never seen anything so beautiful.

His battery seemingly charged, the alien turns his gaze back to them and raises a hand again, and the soldiers fall like dominos as a shockwave ripples through the air from him. Alex is spared only by the distance.

As if drawn by some undeniable magnetic force, he leaves behind the relative safety of their command center and walks forward among the scattered bodies. “Manes!” he hears Colonel Sumner roaring behind him. “Get back here now!”

He ignores it. The chain of command seems painfully irrelevant right now.

The alien turns his eyes to Alex and watches him approach. Once Alex is several feet away, the alien approaches to close the distance between them, and Alex stands his ground.

It occurs to him that this is the long-awaited, momentous instant of first contact. 

He doesn’t give a shit about properly representing humanity, but he still masks the fear that churns inside him with an impassive façade, because everything inside him balks at revealing it.

The alien cocks his head, taking in Alex’s drenched figure, the challenge in his stance.

“Don’t you bow to your gods?” he asks, his voice carrying miraculously above the roar of the wind and the pounding rain.

“You are no god,” Alex tells him.

The alien smiles at him, genuine amusement lighting up his eyes.

“Oh, but I am, in every way that matters.” The alien reaches for him, and Alex forces himself to remain immobile and impassive. But the alien only brushes a thumb over his cheekbone, and with that swift touch, a fire long dormant inside Alex flares to life. “Soon you will know it, and kneel.”

Alex raises an unimpressed eyebrow, because no man has ever made him kneel, not like _that, _and no alien ever will, either.

“Why are you here?” he demands. 

“Why, to conquer this planet, of course,” the alien says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Yes, but why? I’m sure there’s much more appealing targets than this backwards hunk of rock. What do you want? Resources? Fealty?”

The alien shrugs, the gesture so insouciant, so _human, _and fixes Alex with a predatory, _hungry _look.

“Why conquer anything?” he asks. “Now go on. Go tell the other humans what you have seen. Decide on the terms of your surrender.” His mouth quirks in a small, cocky smile. “Maybe I’ll grant some of them if you’re the one who delivers them.”

Alex crosses his arms on his chest, unmoving.

“And if we don’t surrender?”

The alien raises a careful eyebrow.

“Then I’ll make you.”

…….

When Alex returns, his father launches straight into a spiel on the chain of command and obeying orders and running off half-cocked with no plan to meet the threat. There isn’t a word of concern in all of it, though Alex has long ago stopped expecting it.

He’s cut off by Colonel Sumner.

“Well? What the hell do they want?” he demands. 

“Surrender.”

“_Unacceptable._” Jesse Manes’ voice is cold and furious. “If these monsters think they can just come and take, and we will give up without a fight. For generations, my family has made it their legacy to protect humankind from creatures like these – “

Alex tunes it out. He’s heard it before.

…..

“Well?” the alien saunters in, late for his own negotiations.

Alex levels him with an unimpressed glare, while beside him, the rest of the brass sits up straighter.

“Oh,” he says when his eyes fall to Alex. “I _knew_ you couldn’t stay away.” He winks.

They’d decided that Alex, as the only human who had succeeded at talking to the alien, should be here. Which seems like a good decision, as the alien looks just slightly pleased. Assuming alien facial expressions could be interpreted the same way as human ones.

It’s Alex’s turn to raise a suggestive eyebrow.

“Missed me?” he asks, and pointedly ignores the glares both Sumner and his father send his way for entirely different reasons. 

“Terribly.” The alien’s voice drips with irony. He perches on the table they sit at, leaning forward brush a thumb across Alex’s cheek, an imitation of their first touch. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”

If Earth can be saved because some conquering alien doesn’t want to keep his dick in his pants, Alex thinks, then playing along is a small price to pay. 

Besides, he doesn’t entirely _mind _the too-warm hand against his skin, or the way it feels like sparks course between them at the point of contact.

“Alex,” he answers.

“Alex,” the alien repeats. “I’m Michael, and I’m here to accept your surrender.”

Alex looks him head-on.

“You’re not getting it,” he says bluntly.

“Oh, Alex,” Michael croons. “I _am. _It’s only a matter of when.”

…..

Alex spends the next several months holed up in Cheyenne Mountain while the rest of humanity’s armed forces battle an alien armada. They lose more than they win, but occasionally, they manage to shoot down a spaceship or drone. That, combined with the remnants of the crashed ship retrieved in Roswell in 1947, allow Alex to get to work on doing what he does best.

First, he writes a code to crack the alien language, because apparently the preceding generations of his family had more brawn than brains and seventy years wasn’t enough for them to figure it out. Then, he sets to work figuring out the complex systems of their ships and writing a virus to take them down.

Several floors above him, the best generals the United States military has to offer bicker over tactics in a conference room. They’d wanted Alex in there too for his combination of tactical expertise, rank, and family legacy. But he knows that the only possible victory in this war won’t come with force, and they’d seen sense on that score, at least, leaving Alex to his coding.

It’s a daunting task, because alien technology is as advanced as it is, well, alien, but Alex has never met a challenge he refused.

And sometimes, when he feels stuck at a dead end, he dreams about putting an impressed look on Michael’s face when he takes down his ship’s defenses and brings a fleet to its knees.

He works away at it as Michael takes over continent after continent. He never shoots down the news drones, but blows kisses at them instead. Alex watches from his monitors as Michael sends him kisses from the top of the Eiffel Tower, the ruins of the White House, the Brooklyn Bridge, the rubble of Buckingham Palace, and Moscow’s Red Square living up to its name, covered in rivers of blood.

…..

Michael finds the time to call him up in the midst of his campaign through Western Europe.

“Where’re you from?” Michael asks, foregoing any form of greeting.

“If you’re looking for family to threaten, you won’t find any,” Alex tells him curtly.

“Nah, that’s not why I’m asking. Promise.”

“Roswell,” Alex answers, because there really is no one left there who cares about him, and the town itself can burn for all he cares.

The next day, alien armies easily take Roswell, New Mexico, and level the town square to erect a sun-temple in honor of Alex Manes. Those who value their lives are told not to flee, and the town that had sneered at Alex all his life bows to him as they pray it will earn them mercy.

….

Michael finds him again as half the planet lies in ruin, in between laying siege to New York and reducing Philadelphia to rubble.

“Hey, darlin’,” Michael greets him.

“Michael,” he returns. He knows he should be afraid as Michael advances on him, but fear is the farthest thing from his mind as Michael backs him up against a wall and presses close. He trails kisses up Alex’s neck, and Alex lets his head fall back and sighs contentedly as Michael presses his lips to the skin behind his ear.

“That was quite the victory today,” he murmurs while Michael nibbles gently at his earlobe, and feels Michael’s answering hum reverberate through his skin. “Pretty soon you’ll have the entire Eastern seaboard. Unless you decide DC is purely symbolic and push west instead – “

Michael draws back and directs a piercing glare at him.

“Trying to seduce me into giving up intelligence, Alex?” he asks, mock offended. “And here I thought you _liked _me.” 

Alex shrugs. “It was worth a try.”

Michael smirks and returns his attention to Alex’s neck, biting at the curve of it.

“You don’t have to fight me,” he offers, his breath hot against Alex’s skin. “Rule by my side instead.”

“Mmm,” is all he can manage as Michael’s mouth finds the hollow of his throat and he has to hold back a moan. “I’m not _that _easy, and you don’t want me to be.”

Michael pulls back. “No?” His hand trails suggestively down Alex’s chest, over the planes of his stomach to cup his hardness. “Huh.”

Alex’s control snaps.

“Fuck me, damn it,” he demands.

Michael obliges. He rips Alex’s clothes off without ceremony, the buttons of his shirt scattering like pebbles over the floor, and takes him roughly against the wall. Halfway through, Alex realizes Michael is holding him up with the same miraculous power that had allowed him to level a battalion of soldiers with his mind. This, too, should frighten him, the way he hangs helplessly in the air as Michael thrusts into him, one hand pinning his wrists above his head while the other works his cock, but instead, it pulls his orgasm from him in a heady rush of power and helplessness. Michael continues to fuck into him until he cries out, raw and oversensitive, and comes inside him with an unabashed moan of pleasure.

After, Michael carries him to the bed and deposits him on it almost gently. Alex is blissfully hazy when Michael murmurs “not DC” in his ear. “Mmm,” is all he manages in response while Michael runs a gentle hand over his cheek. It’s the gentlest touch he’s used today, Alex thinks blearily.

The bed creaks as Michael rises, kneeling over him to steal a last, soft kiss.

“See you on the other side, sweetheart.”

Alex wakes up from heated dreams with his cock hard and his skin flushed. It takes him a moment to realize that the waves of pleasure teasing at him come from a working vibrator in his ass.

He blinks again as understanding dawns.

“Fuck,” he breathes, looking around, but his quarters are empty. Michael isn’t here. 

His leg aches, too; he’d been too sleepy and well fucked last night to think of removing it, and of course Michael hadn’t known. He sits up to take it off and has to bite back a moan when it causes the vibrator to shift inside him.

He scrambles to remove his leg, gritting his teeth through the waves of pleasure until he can find the pin and detach the limb.

As he falls back onto the bed and reaches for his cock, it occurs to him that he doesn’t have to hold back his moans in the empty quarters. He brings himself off twice before the vibrations cease, either the end of the toy’s battery life or some kind of signal from Michael.

The latter might be a security risk, or at the very least something worth investigating, he thinks blearily as he stumbles to the shower to clean off the come and sweat coating his body.

He leaves the vibrator in when he dresses for work that day. It remains still and quiet, but still feels it inside him every time he shifts in his chair as he attempts to parse code.

On the wall above his monitor, a map tracks Michael’s advances across the planet. Alex isn’t on the front lines anymore, and it all attains the elegance of a game of Risk, the simplicity of strategy and the neatness of numbers.

Kyle calls from the battlefield that day. Michael had indeed pushed west, foregoing DC entirely, though Alex’s forewarning had failed to do them any good. Kyle looks haggard, covered in blood as he describes the horrors of the injuries he’s had to treat. Alex nods and tries to commiserate while shifting in his chair, feeling the plug press against his prostate as he gazes at the map of Michael’s conquests.

….

Michael’s hail comes as Alex watches a timer count down the minutes until his virus burrows irretrievably inside the systems of Michael’s ship and gives Alex control of it. The alien fleet had hijacked Earth’s satellites to communicate, and that had allowed him to introduce the virus he’s spent months perfecting. Their last hail Mary as the alien armada prepares for a final, decisive battle in the sky above them.

Behind him, Sumner (promoted to general for lack of anyone more qualified), his father (because apparently a family legacy of hunting aliens makes up for rank and respect these days), and the small handful of generals left standing stare at the screens in the bunker below Cheyenne Mountain like their lives depend on it, because they do.

“Hey, Alex,” Michael drawls, sounding not in the least bit concerned. Alex can just imagine him, leaning suggestively against a control panel on the ship’s bridge, a seemingly disinterested gaze on the viewscreen. 

_Keep him talking, _Sumner mouths at him.

“Michael.”

“This is gonna get messy. You sure you don’t wanna rethink your decision about surrendering?”

Alex watches the timer coolly. A minute left. 

“Are the puny humans putting up more of a fight than you expected? You need me to go easy to save your delicate pride?”

Michael laughs, warm and amused, and Alex feels a mirroring warmth spread through him.

“You never go easy on me, darlin’. That’s why I like you.”

Forty-five seconds.

“I know what you’re doing, by the way,” Michael says, and Alex’s heart skips a beat. “Ingenious. I probably have, what, thirty seconds?”

Twenty-five.

“’Course,” Michael drawls, sounding unfazed by the impending threat. “You could just….not.”

“Give me one good reason,” he says, because he has to keep Michael talking, and it doesn’t matter what he says. It doesn’t. 

“Because I’ll give you the world. Hell, you can have a whole solar system, if you’d like. You can even rule this hunk of rock if it strikes your fancy.”

“And I’m sure that’s not a desperate lie because I’m practically through your defenses,” Alex retorts, even as temptation gnaws at him.

“I’ll prove it,” Michael says, and the countdown falls from fifteen seconds to zero. Suddenly, Alex has access to the ship’s systems.

_Michael’s ship. _

“Choose wisely, sweetheart.”

Alex’s hand hovers over the keyboard. His virus is a delicate set of commands that starts at the peripheral systems to create a cascading series of failures until the ship’s core detonates. All he has to do is press one key.

Behind him, the room is frozen, all eyes fixed on his hand hovering above the keyboard. It occurs to Alex that he holds the fate of humanity in his hand in that moment.

That knowledge intoxicates him.

“You took an oath, Alex. All enemies, foreign and domestic,” his father reminds him.

He leans forward and presses a key.

…..

Michael finds him locked inside an empty room in the bunker several hours later.

He’d broken the connection between their computers and Michael’s ship and deleted the virus. After the room had unfrozen from shock, he’d been promptly arrested and relieved of his service weapon.

He hadn’t bothered resisting.

They’d almost left his leg, too, because he’s gotten good enough on his prosthetic that most people didn’t even know he had one. Until his father had pointed out that he was too dangerous to be allowed mobility, even unarmed. 

The walls shake in prelude to Michael’s arrival, and the door blows off its hinges and goes flying. Michael stands in the doorway looking like nothing other than an avenging angel.

“Why are you locked in here?” he demands.

“Well, I did, you know, commit treason.”

“Right,” Michael says, like he’s just now remembering that little detail. He offers Alex his prosthetic and waits patiently as he puts it on. The moment Alex rises, however, Michael shoves him against a wall and devours his lips in a kiss. “I meant it. You’ll rule by my side.”

Aboard his ship, Michael leads Alex to the enormous windows of the viewing deck and gestures at the planet with a dramatic flourish.

“Your domain, my prince.”

“Prince?” Alex asks.

“That’s what I am. Keep up, Alex. I said you’d rule beside me, didn’t I? Now come on, I’ll show you the throne.”

“You have a throne room on your _spaceship_?” Alex asks incredulously.

Michael just winks and leads him to a high-ceilinged room, dark and barren except for a throne of iron and steel.

Alex raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Only one?” he asks.

“We can rectify that,” Michael says easily. “I was hoping you’d say yes, but I didn’t want to assume.”

Alex pushes Michael back onto the sole throne, and he sprawls like he was born to sit on it. Which, he probably was. But he also makes no move to rise from where Alex has put him, spreading his legs and raising his eyebrows.

Alex stalks forward and rests a knee between Michael’s legs as he leans in for a kiss. “Stay,” he instructs when he pulls away, and Michael does.

Alex strips slowly, letting his clothes pool on the floor as Michael’s heated gaze drags up and down his body. The throne is wide enough to accommodate them both, and Alex climbs easily onto Michael’s lap to straddle him.

“Lube?” he questions, and it zooms obediently into Michael’s hand.

“Get me ready,” he instructs, and Michael obliges.

“You’re bossy,” he remarks as his fingers work Alex open none too gently. “You’ll be a natural at ruling.”

“I think your mouth could be better occupied,” Alex retorts.

Michael hums in seeming agreement and leans forward to trail kisses up Alex’s neck as his fingers continue their work. His tongue licks, hot and sinful, at the hollow of his throat, and Alex lets his groans spill from him unabashedly.

When deems himself ready enough – or, rather, when he’s tired of the wait – he orders Michael to fuck him.

Michael’s hands grip his ass, bringing Alex down onto his cock while his hips thrust up, filling him, pistoning into him ruthlessly. Alex’s hand finds its way into Michael’s curls while the other works his own cock, just as quickly, almost as if they’re in a race as to who will finish first. He tightens his grip in Michael’s hair, dragging his head back, which forces Michael to let out a groan and thrust even harder, dragging in turn a cry from Alex.

“_More,_” he demands, because even with the way his hastily-prepared body turns the pleasure almost into pain, nothing is enough. He wants to feel everything he has denied himself for decades.

Michael grips him tighter, and his skin burns where Michael touches him, a heat that spreads through his entire body, lighting every nerve ending on fire. His pleasure doubles, ripping his orgasm through him, and his cry of pleasure echoes through the empty room as Michael’s thrusts continue unabated. He rests limply in Michael’s lap, moaning as Michael’s cock continues to drag in and out, mindless of the oversensitivity of Alex’s well-fucked body. Despite having climaxed, Alex feels his pleasure build a second time, and when Michael comes inside him, his cock attempts valiantly to harden and seek a second climax. But it’s too soon, and Alex lets out an unabashed, plaintive whine at the overstimulation.

Michael’s movements slow, though the rawness of a burn lingers where his hands still rest. He glances down and sees two shimmering handprints on his ass. Michael follows his gaze and Alex feels possessiveness course through him.

Understanding hits him the next second.

Well, two could play this game.

“You couldn’t have marked me somewhere other people could see?” he asks, while inside his mind he paints a picture of himself walking naked through the halls of the ship, the other aliens ogling Alex’s body before their eyes discover Michael’s mark.

The possessiveness surges again, a tsunami rather than a wave this time.

“You’re _mine,_” Michael growls.

In the end, they abandon his clothes and Michael wraps him in his cloak for the short walk to his quarters. They are almost as spacious as the throne room, and Alex settles heavily in the first plush chair he sees, the exhaustion of the day – and the sex- weighing him down.

He reaches for his prosthetic, but Michael gets there first; Alex blinks and the next second, Michael is on his knees before him. “Let me,” he offers. “It must be hurting by now.”

“How did you know?”

Michael gives a small shrug as he presses the pin and removes Alex’s leg. “Our prosthetic limbs aren’t so different.”

“Hang on,” he says, and Michael pauses where he’s begun massaging Alex’s stump. “That night. Why didn’t you take it off?”

“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” Michael answers, and Alex stares stupidly at him as he processes that Michael had refused to leave him feeling vulnerable while also shoving a vibrator into his unconscious body. A smirk spreads over Michael’s expression as he watches realization dawn over Alex’s.

“You are an enigma,” Alex says, awed and intrigued all at once.

Michael rises onto his knees until they’re face to face.

“I’m even better than that, baby. I’m a paradox,” Michael says, and kisses him.

He helps Alex to the shower, telekinetic force holding him up, and then back to the bed. Once there, Michael tugs him close and falls immediately into a deep sleep. Alex follows him promptly into blissful unconsciousness.

He wakes to the feel of heat on his chest. Opening his eyes, he sees Michael’s hand splayed over it, glowing red and shooting sparks. But when Alex shifts to face him, dislodging his hand, there’s no mark, only the raw redness of a sunburn.

Alex glances over at Michael’s face. He looks peaceful for a man who has just accepted an entire civilization’s surrender. Sprawled on his back and lost deeply in sleep, he is the very picture of defenselessness.

Before he can even question what he’s doing, Alex is sitting up and placing a hand over Michael’s throat. He squeezes and tastes the same intoxicating power he’d known in the bunker a day ago.

Michael comes awake with fluttering eyelashes and a smirk that turns immediately lascivious.

“Breathplay? I like it.”

Alex doesn’t let up the pressure.

“How did you know that I wouldn’t destroy you, when you took your defenses down?” He pauses, following the thread of a thought. “_Did _you know?”

Something shoves him off, and the next second, Michael is atop him, their mouths pressed together in a kiss and a hand on his cock. “Guess that’s another mystery for you to solve,” Michael murmurs against his lips, and catches Alex’s moans with his mouth.

….

Roswell, New Mexico becomes the capital of the Antarian Empire’s newest colony, and Michael erects a throne room beside Alex’s temple. Their two thrones stand side by side, glittering hunks of pure gold.

They christen this throne, too; this time, it’s Alex sprawling as Michael kneels between his legs to suck him off. Alex can’t leave a handprint, but he comes all over Michael’s face, and it catches on Michael’s fluttering lashes and plush lips. “_Mine,_” he growls.

Michael doesn’t disagree.


End file.
